In outer space, they say, no one can hear me scream
Because of the not-quite vacuum
Sound cannot travel there
Despite the plasma, the hydrogen, the dark energy.
Mal-adapted to outer space, we creatures of air
And carbon. Yet made since the first fire
Spurred on by cold war
To venture out there.
To outer space. The non-terrestrial
Contains us, and rocks condensed from gas
With molten cores.
So standing on the surface of Mars, for example, look out and see
Horizon. That line between the ground and the pink sky, another sky.
Beneath it lie valleys, mountains and caves. In another landscape
We see a topography both known and unknown.
And so having come so far, we find ourselves some way home.